Wiet
by bithnic
Summary: A BITHNIC ORIGINAL: He's young and has everything to live for. But when Wiet is forced to fight for his rights and home, Wiet is forced to realise that things don't always end up with a fairy tale ending. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Legacy, a place of nothingness. For two hundred and fifty years it had been nothing but home to a few people, but was it really worth fighting for? Its once green land and hills had been a harsh brown colour for years. The blades of dead grass like needles against bare skin, while it was almost impossible to find a single trace of water for miles around.

Yet there Wiet stood, surrounded by hundreds of other men, in honor and defense of their country. For months this had been going on with blood shed from both sides. The women and children hid fearfully within the town, while the barracks would become empty of both men and weapons each day. The untrained and unskilled arches stood at the back of the crowd of warriors, their arrows ready to be fired at any time.

Wiet stood in the middle of the crowd. There he stood with a standard blacksmiths sword and shield in each hand. In the past fifteen minutes he had found it hard to walk with the weight of the chain mail protecting his upper body. Its links clinked and clunked together with his ever step.

The rich people sat upon their horses in the front of the crowd showing off to all of those who where lower then themselves, people like Wiet.

Wiet looked around frantically, his heart beating faster with every minute. The battle was about to begin.

The men all around him looked nervous. He watched as one man quickly and yet silently said a prayer. Wiets eyes darted to yet another man. This one was looking at his sword as if he wished to jam it through his own body, just to finish it all off already.

"Ya'll ok there brotha?" asked a guy standing next to him. He looked as if he were in his mid thirties. His red hair was poking out from beneath his helmet in tuffs. "Ya'll lookin' a bit pale there for a second"

Wiet shook his head. "Just nervous"

The red headed man nodded as if to show his understanding. That was when Wiet heard it though, a horn off in the distance. In that moment he knew that the battle for Legacy had finally commenced.

Wiet tightened his grip on his sword and tensed the muscles in his body. He had never wielded a sword before and found it hard just to keep it held upright.

Warriors from within the crowd began to run forward, one of which knocked Wiet down to the ground. The dead grass poked through parts of his chain mail while other parts dug into the skin on his face making deep cuts but not yet deep enough to have bled.

He struggled to get up as people trampled over his body as he wasn't even there. All of a sudden he felt a slight tug near the top of his chain mail, then came a big yank.

"Wat ya'll doin' wayz downs there?" asked the red headed man from before as he pulled Wiet up off of the ground and onto his feet.

Wiet shrugged his shoulders and the red headed man grinned. "Let us go kill the dir'y bastards" he said.

Wiet nodded his head but the red headed man was gone before he could see. Wiet just stood there, sword and shield in hands, looking dumb struck. He watched as man after man fell to the ground. He turned his attention to the religious man (the one who had said the prayer) as he stabbed his sword into his opponents gut. He pulled it out slowly with the indescribable sound of the mans insides being wrenched. Blood spattered in numerous places, some of it landing on Wiet. Unfortunately for the religious man he was attacked from behind. His head taken straight off his shoulders with one clean swipe from his opponent's sword. His body fell to the ground and began to twitch around like live wires. Blood spattered out skyward from his wound as his head lolled around on the ground. His eyes where still open and turned up so that his pupils where no longer visible.

Wiet felt like throwing up, but turned away in pure disgust. As he did he saw the body of the suicidal man (who had been gazing at his sword before hand) at his feet. Wiet screamed and took a step backwards almost tripping over the red headed man who was fighting his opponent with ease.

"Glad to see ya among the liven'" he said greeting him as he sliced of his opponents arm. His opponent screamed in pain and fell to the ground as the red headed man finished him off. "More than I can say for that otha fella"

Wiet nodded as another warriors tried to take on the red headed man.

"Ya'll got yourself a name there kid?" he asked.

Wiet hesitated as first but found that he had nothing to lose. "Wiet Geoffrey"

The red headed man nodded. "The names Michael"

People where dying left right and center now. Corpses lined the ground like an endless flood while blood was spattered everywhere. Most of the arches were now dead, while only few survived. The rich people were still among the living as they trampled over corpses and live bodies. Skulls lay crushed and caved in, most still attached to their rightful bodies.

"Don't you think you should stop for a while Michael?" asked Wiet

"M-I-C-H-E-L" he said "Not Michael. Spelt he same said differently, and I'll stop when all of those god dam'ed bastards are six feet unda" Wiet gulped as Michael sliced his opponents' ear off. "Ya'll didn't need that any way" he said

His opponent dropped his sword and put his hands to where his ear used to be. "Give mercy!" he cried. "I'm only fifteen years old; I have a life to live"

Michael grinned. "Well then ya'll betta tho't of that before ya'll started fighten'" With that he gutted him.

Wiet turned away in disgust, Michael was far more blood thirsty than he.

"Ya'll wanna join in there kid or ya just wanna s'and and watch?"

In that moment time seemed to freeze. A warrior on horse back stabbed Michael brining him to his knees, he died almost instantly.

Wiet looked around. The men from his country were retreating. Now he stood alone.

The warrior on horse back looked at him harshly. "Give up" he said in a strong British accent. "There is no hope for you left"

Wiet dropped his sword and was seized almost instantly by a pair of guards. As soon as they grabbed hold of him his sword only just reached the ground, piercing the leg of Michael.

NOTE: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this story I wrote a few years ago. Thank you for reading and please review!


	2. Chapter 2

The next hour or so seemed like a blur to Wiet. The guards had taken him back to their land and thrown him into the dungeon. For a few minutes now he had been watching the dripping water from the hole in the roof, its rhythm keeping constant. The echo of the dungeon sent shivers up his spine while his body was aching all the time. The dungeon was stone cold, cold enough to freeze your toes, but Wiet made no effort to stay warm. A skeleton half decomposed lay cuffed to the wall rotting away while flies covered the place where his left eye had been.

Wiet listened as he head footsteps echoing in the dungeon, getting louder and louder. _They're coming for me _he thought. _They're going to torture me._ Wiet watched eyes wide, mouth dry, as the guards walked past his cell and over to the one across from him. The guards walked in and mumbled something to the prisoner.

"No!" he cried. "One more day; just one more day!"

The guards grabbed both of his arms and dragged him out screaming. Wiet covered his ears with both of his hands until the screaming seemed too distant to hear.

"You're looking a little distraught there" said a guard as he came over to Wiets cell. "You okay?"

Wiet nodded his head. "Yeah, thanks"

The guard extended his hand out into Wiets cell. "I'm Olivera"

Wiet looked as his hand with caution and then shook it. "Wiet Geoffrey"

Olivera smiled. "Its sad to see people like you in here, makes me feel like we shouldn't even be fighting this war. I'll be out there next week though"

Wiet looked confused as a question (one that he had not been intending on finding out) slipped out of his mouth. "What are they going to do to me?"

Olivera sighed. "There's been talk of execution for those of which oppose us" he said. "I just hope that they change their minds"

Wiet nodded his head.

"Well I should finish my rounds now" said Olivera. "I've got to get home to my little girl"

"How old?" asked Wiet

"Eight"

"What's her name?"

"Elisabeth"

"You call her Lizzie?"

Olivera shook his head. "No, she hates that name"

Wiet nodded his head. "My mums name was Elizabeth, I never knew her though"

Olivera looked at him sympathetically. "We'll talk more tomorrow"

-----------------/------------------------/--------------------------/--------------------------/-------------NOTE: A shorter chapter I know but I hope you all still enjoyed it. Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

The next day came quickly and yet seemed to drag itself along painfully. The guards patrolled through the dungeon every half an hour while the food was scares. As noon came so did Olivera and that was when things really started to move along.

"Tell me more about you mother, Elizabeth" said Olivera

Wiet sighed and tried to recall on what he knew. "She died roughly a few hours after giving birth to me; she was too weak to carry on.

Olivera nodded. "I'm sorry" he said

Wiet smiled weakly. "It doesn't bother me anymore"

There silence between the two of them as the dungeon halls echoed.

"So what about that daughter of yours, Elizabeth. What's she like?"

Olivera shrugged and smiled. "She's eight and just like any other kid out there I suppose"

"You have a wife then?"

Olivera's smiled faded. "She died last week"

In that moment Wiet saw what the world was really like. People fought for what they wanted because of their pride. People killed things out of fear and for the rush of adrenalin that coursed through their veins. _Everything happens for a reason_ he thought. _And what ever will be, will be._

"So what will happen to Elizabeth if you don't come back?"

Olivera looked at him long and hard as if to try and kill him almost instantly. "Mark my works" he said. "I will be back for my little girl"

"Hey" came a voice. "Olivera, what are you doing over there?"

Olivera turned around to face another guard and then turned back to Wiet. "Caught" he said. "I'll see you tomorrow kid"

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NOTE: Is it just me or are these chapters getting smaller? Lol. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I wrote this story back in year nine (I'm in my second year of uni now) as an assignment on prison life for English.

Please review!

Thank you for your time!


	4. Chapter 4

Wiet didn't get much sleep that night and what he did was mortifying.

He was back on the battlefield, surrounded by corpses.

"Hello" he called "Hello!"

"Ya'll shouldn't do that kid"

Wiet turned around and saw Michaels body stand up. Blood stained some of the links in his chain mail. He began to limp towards Wiet. "Ya'll wake up the dead hollerin' like that"

Wiets eyes bulged as he took a step back and landed on the ground atop of another corpse. "You can't be alive" he exclaimed. "I saw you get killed"

"An' a lot o' help that did. I was tellin' ya'll to get in and help so wat do ya'll do, s'and there and watch me get killed"

Wiet watched mortified as corpse after corpse got to its feet. Even the headless corpses managed to stand up.

"Ya'll a traitor," said Michael. "And ya'll know wat happens to 'em"

"No!" cried Wiet. "I didn't mean it"

But the bodies of the dead still edged forward, closer to him, outstretching their arms, trying to grasp onto him with the bloody and cut hands. Wiet moved back a few steps only to find himself surrounded with the corpses closing in on him.

"I didn't do anything though," he cried. "I didn't kill any of you, god damn it I didn't even kill anyone from the other side!"

"Tha's right kiddo" said Michael. "You di'nt even try to help us, you j'st stood there 'ike a rich boy, a sissy n a coward. You're a yella belly!"

"No" cried Wiet. "No!"

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NOTE: Please review! Your time and effort are greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Wiet woke up in a cold sweat. It was late afternoon; Olivera should have been there by now. Wiet walked up to his prison bars and clenched his hands around two of them. "Excuse me," he said to one of the guards as he walked past. "Where is Olivera?"

The guard turned to face him. His face was cut and bruised the wounds still fresh. "He's on the battlefield, not that it's any of your business. So why don't you shut up and sit back down like all the rest of the prisoners and try to keep yourself outta trouble"

"The battlefield" Wiet silently mimicked. "What about his daughter Elizabeth, where is she now?"

The guards face seemed to turn slightly pale at the mention of that name. "God rest her soul," he said. "Olivera went mad and killed his wife after she gave birth to their daughter; she was a still born. Olivera's never seemed all there in the head after that happened. He rambles on about his daughter even though she never got to breath a single tiny gasp of air. He goes on as if she's alive right now as we speak, and as for his wife, well it makes him feel better if he says that she just died and that he had nothing to do with her death. That poor fellow"

Wiet almost collapsed to his knees. Olivera, his only friend was a madman and not only that but he was about to die on the battlefield.

"He isn't expected to come back either" the guard continued. "They don't think he'll last twenty minutes out there, no matter how pathetic the opposing side is. Oh well you better get ready kid, you don't have much longer"

"Much longer until what?" Oliver asked.

The prison guard grinned. "Why your execution" he said. "You got ten minutes left to live"

Wiet screamed and let go of the prison bars as the guard walked off cackling with horrendous laughter. He gripped and pulled at his hair so tightly that he began to feel chunks of it pull out. Wiet silently dropped to the ground and began to sob.

* * *

"He looks asleep to me"  
"Do you think we should wake him?" Or would it be better if we took him out there while he slept. Hell we could finish off the whole thing while he slept and he probably wouldn't even make a sound!"

"Nah, we have to wake him. Its his own fault for being on the opposing side he should be awake when he suffers the consequences"

"Ok then, I'll wake him"

Wiet awoke to feel his sides being kicked by a steel boot. He quickly opened his eyes and scrambled to his feet and over to the opposite side of the room, away from the two prison guards that had come to collect him. "Leave me alone" he cried. "Don't do this to me, I never did anything wrong, I never kill anybody!"

The guards laughed. "Sure, sure. What ever you say"

"Yeah, we believe you" one of them said sarcastically and they both started to laugh again.

The guards edged towards him and each grabbed one of his arms as they started to drag him out of his cell.

"You should be proud," said one of the prison guards. "They expect the war will be over pretty soon so you'll be one of the last people to be executed"

Wiet screamed and kicked his feet about wildly. He thrashed his arms around, trying to break free from the grasp of both of the prison guards. He wasn't going to go down without a fight.

The prison guard on his right stood firm and twisted Wiets arm behind his back making Wiet screamed. "I wouldn't try to escape if I were you," he said. "You wont make it out of here alive even if you try"

The guards pulled Wiet the rest of the way out of the prison and out into the open without much more of a fight from Wiet. They where right, he wasn't going to get out of there alive.

A crowd awaited his arrival outside as he stepped onto the platform where they had a guillotine waiting for him. The crowd cheered at the sight of him, each one ecstatic with the news of a public execution.

A man with a black balaclava stood next to the guillotine awaiting him. The man was of a strong build and looked at if he could have crushed ever bone in Olivera's body without even trying.

The prison guards rest his head in the slot. He was now looking directly at the crowd. He could feel the two prison guards trying his hands together with a piece of rope.

"Do you have any last words outsider?" asked the man with the balaclava.

Wiet shook his head and quietly answered "No"

His heart was pounding faster, the crows was growing on edge, their eyes widening with each anticipating moment as the man with the balaclava let go of the rope that was attached to the guillotine…

Wiets head was cut cleanly off of his body, blood splurged forward onto the stage. His head rolled around on the stage a little until it came to a stop. The crowd cheered and started to pelt their rotten produce at Wiets decapitated head. From behind the crowd a large number warriors on horseback made their way towards the stage.

"The war is over" one of them cried. "We are the victors!"

The crowd cheered as Olivera on his horse made his way over to the stage with the rest of his companions only to see the lifeless mockery of his friend Wiet. He climbed off his horse and upon the stage to face the crowd.

"Are you all happy?" He yelled. "Are you happy with what you have done to this young man. He was younger than me and most of you out there. Would you have let someone else do this to him if he had been your child, if he had been you father or your friend?" Olivera spat each word out, making his anger clear to the crowd of people who had not so long ago been cheering at the death of a traitor. "I beg of you now" he screamed. "If it excites you to kill someone kill me, for I have nothing left to live for now thanks to all of you selfish worms out there. I despise every one of you and what you have done to this poor boy. Well, who will do it? You all seemed so eager just a minute ago. Now who will slay me and rid me of the retched life?"

The crowd fell silent as Olivera words. Some of the women and children wept while the men looked down at their feet.

"Fine then, I shall do it myself," he said as Olivera took his own sword out of his belt and plunged it through his very heart.

The crowd gasped as he fell to the ground, the sound of his body echoing the stage the only noise to be heard as mothers covered their children's eyes. Nothing could be heard, not even the crickets cry.

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NOTE: Well that's the end of this story. I hope those of you who read it enjoyed it! Thank you for reading and please review, its greatly appreciated.

For more of my stories search my pen name on either web site.

Thank you yet again!


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